


Destined

by Mandalor_the_Resurrector



Category: Destiny (Video Games), Destiny 2 (Video Games)
Genre: Destiny, Destiny 2, F/M, Fluff, Hunter - Freeform, Liberties with Canon, Titan, Warlock - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-05-04 08:09:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14588703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mandalor_the_Resurrector/pseuds/Mandalor_the_Resurrector
Summary: Guardians: They fight, they die, and they live again to protect the City. They have no recollection of the life they were before, yet they are drawn by the Light. But behind every helmet and gunsight is an individual. Somewhere in the repeated cycle of fighting and dying, a Titan and Warlock find solace with one another.





	1. The Titan and the Warlock

There was once a time when each planet in the Sol system was covered with the technological and social marvels produced by humanity and their mysterious allies, the Awoken. Then, by the winds of fate or hubris, alien species driven by an unrelenting fervor came and destroyed the majority of it. Each planet, including the moon and most of Earth, had fallen to them. The metropolis, later known as the Last City, would have fallen too of it was not for the sacrifice of the Traveler. From that, the Guardians were born. Blessed with the Light and a personal Ghost, the Guardians were tasked with braving the wilderness and taking back their world.

"Can anyone here explain the role of each guardian?" The instructor asked his class of young initiates.

"Titans built and protect the Wall," a young human boy shouted.

"Hunters go out a fight our enemies alone," an awoken girl said with obvious pride.

"And as Warlocks, our job is to go and find new knowledge and technology for the City," a newly repaired Exo said in its oddly male voice. It still puzzled him why his ancestors decided to make the Exos have genders, besides aesthetic reasons.

"All correct, if you were just repeating from the text," Andrew said. "I asked you what is their role, this means beyond what they do for the Traveler. Tell me, how can you distinguish from each?"

His class fell silent as they contemplated. Their earlier confidence was clearly shaken, and beginning to crack. One, a female Exo, said, "It's easy, sir. Titans wear heavy armor, Hunters from their hoods and thin build, and Warlocks from our helmets and cloaks."

"Again, right - if I was asking for something from your text. You are all going to be warlocks some day. You all know this, but you are too afraid to expand on it. Why is that? And that is a question." If they were tentative before, they were nearly catatonic now. Andrew had to call on one in order to get a response. "Shu!"

"Yes, sir?!" He blurted, more surprised to hear his own voice.

"Yes that you can answer the question or yes that your name is Shu? Which is it?"

"Um... Well..." The poor boy gulped. Andrew didn't mean to make this kid the class goat, but it would serve to get the lesson across. "Because we are afraid of getting it wrong."

"And you believe this to be a bad thing, because...?"

"Well if you are wrong then we don't learn anything."

"If you're wrong and willing to learn from it, then that is knowledge gained. You were all focused on being wrong that you chose to do nothing. Doing nothing is the worst you can do because then nothing is gained. I asked what is the role of each guardian. This means, how we can generate light. For a Titans, it is their personal strength. For a Hunter, it is their discipline. And for a warlock, it is our intelligence. For a Warlock knowledge is power."

He let his words hang there and hoped that they would get it. The ones who had journeyed out into the frontier would catch on faster than the recent indoctrinated, so that was the most he could hope for.

"Class is dismissed for the day. Be sure to continue your studies. Trust me, I can smell out a few lazy sods who call themselves lore masters," a few of them chuckled ate that. The last one who called himself a 'loremaster' was a human boy who contributed nothing to the order and just ended up lighting his own pants on fire for the amusement of the class. Needless to say, he had never been seen again, though confusing and badly written notes marked would end up in his post box. Most he discarded, others he kept for humor sake.

The Warlock Order was one of the few places in the City that only members could freely come and go, visitors needed to be escorted and supervised constantly. The Order's main Archived housed thousands of rare relics from the Golden era, and though they may seem priceless to the order they could make a very fine price to the right buyer. The City was everything but pure, even with a supposed God hanging overhead.

His Ghost, floated up to him, "Riveting speech, but I don't think they'll get the meaning until after they get real experience in the field."

"Better they learn it here than on the business end of a Fallen wire rifle. I'll shed tears, but what lies outside the Walls will shed worse. Still, I'm just glad they haven't blown each other up... yet."

"I don't even want to know," his Ghost said with faint interested, that usually meant it had urgent business for him. "I received a relative urgent message for you, Andrew."

"I swear, if Qorin wants me to do another scouting mission at the Cosmodrome, I will-"

"Before you say anything that could have you in hot water with Master Qorin, I think you may want to know this; it came from the Titan, Layla Robinson."

"Layla? She's back?" There was an obvious hint of excitement in Andrew's voice. He had heard that the Titan had left days ago to eliminate another abomination of the Hive, so was her duty.

"She is awaiting you at the main gate. I would - hey wait!" Before his Ghost could finish, it had to chase its partner who was on a dead run.

Their households had been close allies for centuries, both fathers had fought together for the city in the many wars with the Fallen, Hive, Kabal, and Vex. Layla's father was a powerfully built Titan of great power who lived in one of the original seven fortresses, a large and dependable estate where only the oldest, most prestigious, and venerated could reside in one of those. Andrew's own family came from as recent generation of warlocks, and just like his parents and forbearers, was tasked with going out into the great unknown to bring back answers of the Golden Age, and to teach young warlocks the simple necessary skills.

One of those necessary skills, unfortunately, is not cleanliness. For processing a near godlike mind and mysterious power of the Light, Andrew's room was sumptuous, nor tidy. His study within the Order mimicked that of a museum that had seen better days, with items being left in places wherever he happened to set them, or stacked in piles that defied both reason and gravity.

"How I got paired with you is beyond me," his Ghost sighed.

Andrew was throwing random objects aside, creating new piles in the process. Datapads and scrolls, Golden Era books, large tomes with Sanskrit pages, ancient almanacs, and scrolls printed on animal were being opened, observed, and then discarded haphazardly.

"Where is it?! Where is it?!" He took out a dried fallen finger from one book. "Huh, been looking for this, but.." He threw it aside.

"What are you looking for?"

Andrew continued to ignore his Ghost. "Ah! Found it!"

He held up a necklace that was a miscellany of warlock insanity. Unlike most of the overly decadent creations that could be found in any of the City's large bazaars, this one was one of a kind. Made from the smaller scales of an Ahamkara that he found or confiscated. They fanned out like two great wings, polished dark green and bronze scales that would look intimidating on any day, with a blazing red-orange jewel in the center. It was one of the rarest gems he had ever found. He called it the Heart of Europa since that was where he found it and it seemed to pulse with an inward light.

He knew that she would love it. Andrew pocketed the necklace and navigated to the refresher.

"How does my hair look?" He checked in the mirror to attempt to organize the thick mop of blond hair. "My robes? Eh - they're ok. What do think? Helmet? No helmet? Hey, I'm talking to you!"

"You are really asking me for dating advice? If it would help, I can download some files on basic-"

"No time!" Andrew flashed past his Ghost. "I gotta go."

Another quick teleport jump and he was out the common area, another blink and he was out of the sleeping quarters. With one more he was in front of the Cryptarch Temple. Only a few more, and he'd be at the front gates.

How long had he been since he had been in her company, honestly? Thinking back on the day he met her, he couldn't recall most of the days before then. If she noticed his frequent staring, she didn't do anything about it. His companion was silently writing things down and shifting through inventory and repair documents, her fingers indicating something to herself every so often.

Layla was waiting for her friend for nearly ten minutes. She passed the time by relaxing against one of the impressive tall green sphinxes with the bodies of lions, the wings of eagles and the tails of deadly serpents. One has the face of a man, the other a woman. Layla was not as knowledgeable about art, but she was fairly sure that this creature would scare more guests away then invite. As if the Warlock's outward appearance and "friendly" demeanor couldn't do that.

They all wore their long great coats that were accustomed to their order. Some were rather plain and dull, others had finely crafted ornamentation made from otherworldly materials. The same could be said for their round helmets. Some were simple chrome domes, others could send their enemies away screaming in fear. One was in the shape of a crow's head, and she was fairly certain another was a ram's skull.

Their most distinguishing features were not their helmets or coats thought, it was their arm bands that they wore the upper arm of their dominant hand. The Warlock Bond, she was told, was meant to show their lineage, achievements, or allegiance. No different from the cloaks hunters wore, or her own mark of the Titans, but the bonds had other meanings as well. Titan's Marks were meant to serve as a reminded about the fallen dead from years past, Hunter's Cloaks were all about their habit of tracking and killing, Warlock's were the few that should how intelligent they were. Two-head Eagles, burning sashes, green balefire, red eyes, and vultures were all a mystery to her, but to the Warlocks, they held important meaning.

"Hey! Layla!" A voice called from behind her. A warlock in bronze, silver, and golden robe was jumping in and out of existence towards her. Compared to most of her friends, Andrew was the oddest out of them all. He was tall, with a lean muscular build and broad shoulders hidden underneath his loose-fitting coat. A subtly handsome face with delicate cherub-like features that are deceivingly innocent, concealing a more devious personality, indicated by his impish grin.

She smiled at him. "Hey."

He grinned back.

Then and there he wanted to pull out the necklace from his pocket, present it to her and tell her the significance of this magnificent trinket, what she meant to him, and why he was giving it to her. He wanted to warble out an eloquent speech about how beautiful and wonderful and sweet he thought she was and how he wanted to take her out and paint the town red.

"What's up?"

His inner self just about face-palmed at the words that came out of his mouth…so much for eloquence!

The Warlock had a thing for the Titan. The fierce, beguiling warrior he had known since they were eating sour gummies and chasing each other in the city playgrounds. A childhood friend he had grown up with in between the peace and this current state of disarray their world is going through. He had dismissed it as nothing but a childish infatuation at first, but as they aged together he had come to realize it was a deeper emotion. And one night when he couldn't sleep despite his exhaustion he had come to realize he was more than just plain smitten.

Unfortunately, he was no expert on the subject and truth be told he wasn't sure how to go about it.

Does he ask her out? Impress her with flowers? Serenade her? Ask her parents?

"That one might not be a bad idea," He thought, but then recalled how her father and two older brothers would intimidate any other possible suitors.

He would scratch his head absentmindedly at times and she would joke about him needing dandruff shampoo.

He wished he knew how! Dammit.

Layla tilted her head, not knowing how adorable she looked doing it. "Wanna come with me to the Citadel? I need to do some shopping."

"Sure." He nodded a little too enthusiastically as he ran through his head the numerous scenarios there were for him to ask her out. Timing… the right words… the right moment… oh, so many variables! Where to start?

The Titan tried not to smile too much that he accepted her invitation. Truth be told she was a little nervous doing this. She's always gone out with him before but it's usually for a hunt. It was never anything like this…something more…personal so to speak.

The two of them started heading out by foot towards their point of destination.

"So where are we going?" he started off. His hand was deep in his pocket, fiddling with the trinket.

"To the Citadel… thought I told you that." She replied, raising a brow. "You and your non-existent attention span."

"I know, but… um… are we getting anything in particular? Meeting any merchants?"

"Wait and see Mr. Impatient." She directed her vision to the road ahead.

They walked against the crowd, close to each other but not touching. They both appeared calm not realizing their insides were both in somewhat of a knot.

It was becoming obvious that Andrew was obviously, painfully, out of place. He had not changed out of his Warlock greatcoat, gloves or boots, and the Bond of the Stormcaller that was crackling with electricity was not helping him look inauspicious. Most people who saw him gave him a wide birth, some going as far to cross the crowded streets, and muttering words like "Freak", "Witch", and "Monster" under their breath. Layla, on the other hand, almost looked like a regular civilian. If it was not for the way she carried herself, she would have been lost in the teeming masses. She had not donned her heavy ornate armor and instead had chosen to wear a pair of tight-fitting jeans, red tank top, black boots that were polished enough to look fitting and a leather jacket that had the insignia of the Titans stitched onto the shoulders. She wore the Mark of the Sunbreakers around her waist, which earned her some respectful nods and looks of endearment from people passing by. Which then turned to scorn when they noticed Andrew.

Layla stole glances at her companion and he seemed to be a little too serious. The looks and jeers from the passing throngs of faces were doing something internally to him. She just hoped that it would not lead him into one of his infamous Dark Moods. The last one, she heard, lasted next to a month, and the cause was unknown. The results were that Andrew was held up in a cave somewhere in Old Russia with any of the House of Devils to afraid to go near it.

Andrew was taking side-way looks at Layla too. She was whistling.

Neither of them said anything.

The streets began to thicken as more people began to gather, marching on foot and waving banners. They held up long banners saying: "Down with FWC", or"FWC took my baby", or "Food 4 FWC = None 4 Us", and carried several straw idols of what was meant to be the Exo, Lakshmi-2 and several guardians who fought the faction. The Future War Cult was under much scrutiny lately since their current winning streak in the Crucible, but they required a lot of the regular citizens of the City - mainly food.

"Don't even think about it..."

The warning was uttered in a low, soft whisper, but lashed out like a whip's stinging bite. Andrew turned his eyes from his companion and cast a lingering gaze across the growing crowd; mostly young people with nothing but piss and vinegar flowing through them, but there were also grown men and women who were in desperate need of real food and water. What broke his heart the most were the children.

Mixed in with the angry chants, he heard a few cries of "Justice" and "the voice belongs to the Speaker," or "down with the Consensus, long live New Monarchy," and even "the City is lost, the Traveler is dead, abandon this world and flee with Dead orbit!" From both sides of the street, several security frames and guardians wearing the dark blue, yellow and red began to mass before them, weapons at the ready.

"Feed us!" a woman shrieked. "Food!" boomed a man further down. "We want bread, not guns!" in a heartbeat, a thousand voices took up the chants relating to food. The Speaker, New Monarchy, and Dead Orbit were forgotten, and the only faction the mob belonged to was the Food faction. "Food," they clamored. "We're starving!"

To give them some credit the police Frames and FWC members were carrying non-lethal weapons, but faced with an ever growing mob and tensions growing higher by the second, one was bound to do something stupid. As canisters of tear gas began to fly through the sky and erupt amongst the crowd, all hell had broken loose. Many had rushed the police lines, with others were blinded by the smoke, and more protesters fled.

"Common, we need to get out of here." Layla pulled Andrew down the adjacent street. They ran down one street, with protesters and police frames on their heels. In this part of the City, the streets were a veritable maze of streets, side streets, and alleyways. All one had to do was go down an unfamiliar passage, and they'd be lost for days.

Andrew pulled Layla into a side alley and sunk down. The heavy footfalls of escaping protesters were like a pounding rain, while the chants of the chasing police were the thunder. The storm seemed to move quickly, but they hid there until there was all the sirens had died off.

"Close call," Layla said as they emerged from the alley.

"I know," Andrew said as he dusted his robe of debris. "All in a day's work." A corner of his mouth lifted as he reached to dust off some dirt off Layla's shoulder.

"Thanks." She said, trying not to blush a little as his hand brushed the side of her neck. She never admits to it but gets a little tingle of excitement whenever their skin came in contact with each other. She's felt like that for a while, and she enjoyed it.

Secretly she hoped he does too.

They started to walk again to the road they deemed was the one to their destination. It wasn't until a few hundred yards later when they got to a fork in the road that they both paused.

"Left or right?'

"What do you mean?"

"Do we go left or right?"

Layla was stumped. This road was unfamiliar to her. "Ummm…"

"You do know where we're going?" he inquired although the confusion on her features negated that thought. "Unless…you got us lost on purpose?" he joked as a fist found its way to his shoulder.

"Shut up Warlock." She pouted as she rubbed her chin thoughtfully.

"Are we going the here or there?" he raised a brow as he contemplated on how adorable she looked with her mouth twisted that way.

"Be quiet, I'm thinking!" she hushed as her eyes scanned both roads. She turned to the left and began to walk ahead.

"Is this the right way?"

"We'll find out now, won't we?" she shrugged as she just kept walking. The warlock hastened his pace to follow her lead.

They were really lost now.

He came to that conclusion ten minutes into their walk as the titan would pause and seem to speak to herself. He chose not to say anything. After all, he didn't mind following her around and watching her determinedly walk even if he knew she had no idea where they were going. Her short, golden hair flipped almost seductively as she turned her head here and there, as though looking for any familiar spot. Truth be told, he enjoyed their little adventure. They were mostly on an empty road surrounded by walls mostly and an occasional pedestrian passing by. Instinct tells him she didn't fancy asking anybody where they were…and he wasn't going to, lest she felt like he was undermining her.

"I can ask if you like…" he piped twenty minutes later as they turned into the third dead end and the frustration was far too evident in her features.

Her answer was a quick turn around and a rapid walking pace. "And here I thought men don't like asking for directions." She replied a little tartly.

"I'm not like other men." He chuckled a little as she turned her head to his answer.

The exasperation on her face disintegrated for a few seconds as she retorted. "That's what I like about you."

Luckily her sight was turned away from him as a wave of crimson spread on his face. Did she just confess to…?

"Here we go!" she concluded as she edged into a far-off nook they ignored earlier. "Move your hinder before they close!"

"Yes Ma'am!" he jogged after her disappearing figure.

"I told you I knew where we were going." She murmured as she slipped behind a curtained entrance.

"Sure you did."  
"What?"

"Nothing…" he spoke louder as his eyes scanned the relatively brightly lit room they walked into. The warlock had to admit he was pleasantly surprised.

They were in a music store.

Numerous stringed instruments decorated the pale yellow walls of the stall they walked into. A variety of percussion instruments decorated the opposite side. A shelf of music sheets was filled with pieces from composers of old. Behind a counter, an older earthling plied his wares. He bent down the counter and produced a small, handcrafted wooden guitar. He handed it to Layla who ran her fingers lightly across the body of the instrument, as though reversing its beauty.

"It's one of the last instruments Master Natzram carved before he passed on." The older gentleman remarked.

"I know…I know…" she murmured as her eyes seemed to glisten. "He promised me he'd make it…one more time…for his best student."

"You mean his favorite student."

"Well, I was both." She smiled proudly as she dug into her satchel for payment, but the storekeeper closed his hands over hers.

"He would never want you to pay for a gift, Layla." He said as he pushed the Glimmer back in her hands.

"But this is my gift, not a payment." She smiled as she dumped the currency on the counter. "Get Master Natzram some flowers on my behalf."

"You know he hates them."

"So do I." she laughed as she took the guitar. "Some ale then, and chicken wings perhaps."

"Now you're talking." The shopkeeper laughed as his hazy gaze to the warlock who was smilingly watching their exchange. "You are a fortunate man for having her in your company." He remarked.

"But I…"

"Let's go." Layla hauled the guitar and exited the shop before he could say anything. Andrew turned to acknowledge the older man who gave him two thumbs up and a toothless grin.

"I didn't know you played the guitar." He commented as Layla started strumming a tune on the beautifully crafted instrument.

"It's been a while." She said seriously as she began to pluck notes on it.

The warlock started to hum along as she played. He knew the song she was playing…and truth be told, it was one of his favorite tunes. She paused to lean on an empty stall as she tickled the strings to the melody. People passed them by, pausing to listen to her for a minute or two before smiling and going on their way. Andrew, on the other hand, was mesmerized. Not only by the skillful way she was playing but how content she appeared doing so.

She became even more beautiful in his already smitten eyes.

Layla smiled to herself as she noted her scholarly friend admire her. She had picked this song particularly for him, albeit she was too shy to confess so.

She straightened up a few minutes later as she finished her piece amongst a loud applause from the small crowd that gathered around her, thought the loudest clap…had she noticed, was from Andrew. A pleasant grin was on his lips as she gathered her wits about her and motioned him that they were leaving.

"You're very talented." He remarked as he offered to carry the guitar for her. Layla accepted and helped sling it on his shoulder.

"That's what Master Natzram used to say." She spoke of her teacher with reference. "He was like a second father to me. He taught me about the arts, music…how to appreciate all the other things in life that you don't get to see on the battlefield."

"Amazing."

"I know I am…and so are you." She blurted out before covering her mouth and then blushing.

"Thanks." He laughed before raising his scarf to cover half his face that turned red at her compliment. "Oh look, sour gummies!"

A stall in the marketplace selling different confectioneries had put out a display of the sour candies. The warlock bent over to examine the merchandise before picking up a 2 lb bag of it.

"You eat that much?" the titan joked as he approached with the sizable container.

"Who says I'm the only one who's going to enjoy this?" he offered her the open bag, her eyes grew like saucers as she gladly dug into the treats they mutually enjoyed when they were children.

"Damn you, Warlock, you're ruining my diet!" she spoke through a handful of gummies that she popped in her mouth.

"You don't need to be on one." He said nonchalantly. "You look great the way you are." He smiled as he complimented her, "Hey save some of the green ones for me!"

"You snooze you lose." She stuck her tongue out, purpose grabbing more of the green colored sour candy.

The two of them laughed, nudging each other as they dug through the bag fighting over their favorite snack. They walked happily throughout the rest of the marketplace as they took their time walking back to their headquarters.

"Well, that was fun." She said as they paused by his doorstep.

"Even if we got lost and all."

"We were not lost."

He cocked an eyebrow. "So are you telling me you prolonged our date on purpose?'

She snorted. "Who said that was a date?"

He laughed nervously. "Can't blame a warlock for trying."

"I didn't realize you were." She stuck her tongue out before punching him playfully on the shoulder. "Besides, if that was a date you have to be the cheapest bastard I know. Who takes his date out for gummies?"

"Hey, you loved them."

"I didn't say I didn't."

A brief pause ensued as they held each other's gaze for a minute longer than they typically did.

"Well, I gotta get going." He broke the silence first as he turned around. "Warlock business…you know."

"Okay."

Andrew hurried up to turn the door, clumsily fiddling for his keys when he dropped something on the floor.

"You dropped something, warlock." Layla bent over to pick the necklace he had been saving all this time. She raised it to eye level, ignoring the fact that a brush of embarrassment, panic, and excitement had crossed his pale features. She squinted, examining it under the light of the setting sun and tracing the gem in the middle. Her eyes showed admiration even as her voice remained unimpressed. "It's beautiful." She handed it back to him with a gentle shove and a smirk. "A little too girly for you, though."

He swallowed as he took the necklace from her hands. He tried to hide the nervousness in his speech. "Well, …it's meant for a girl. That's why it's girly….and besides…the color doesn't match my eyes."

"Oh." She tried to hide a tinge of disappointment in her voice. "She must be special. That isn't cheap…and knowing what a cheapskate you are…"

"She is." He began to sound more confident. "She's very special to me. I've always looked for the perfect time to give it to her and I never could."

"Well, that's kinda lame." She spoke as she crossed her arms over her chest. "What is it with you men and the perfect timing? It's so cheesy! Give it to her already and if she likes it and she likes you, who cares about the timing? Well…except maybe if she's in the bathroom or having an asthma attack...but otherwise…" she stopped mid-speech when he motioned to put it around her neck.

"It's for you."

Her pretty mouth dropped open as he brushed part of her hair to put the necklace around her neck and clasp it. She didn't move a muscle as he went behind her to fasten it. She still had the stunned look on her face when he stood in front of her after his daring deed.

"It's not too girly for you." He spoke at last. "And I hope you don't mind the timing."

Layla looked at the beautiful gem on his present, still not saying a word.

Andrew gulped. The small moment of confidence he had slowly started to dissipate with every second she said nothing.

Maybe he shouldn't have paid attention to what she said about timing….

"Umm…"

Layla suddenly leaned over, planting a gentle kiss on his partly opened mouth. It wasn't a quick one. It wasn't that chaste either. It lasted for several seconds, with enough pressure on it for him to realize it was more than just a friendly one.

And just as suddenly as she gave him that kiss she pulled away, a little giggle coming from her sweet lips. She turned about, with a hint of a sexy sway in her hips as she sauntered away from him.

"Thank you for my present." She turned her head and tossed him a saucy smile. "Love it."

"You're welcome." He said, still a little stunned as he touched his bottom lip, as though still reeling from her kiss.

"See you tomorrow." She turned about this time, walking backward as she did.

"Tomorrow?" a quizzical expression crossed his features. He doesn't recall anything on his agenda for the day after.

"For our date." She winked as she disappeared among the growing crowd heading towards the center of town. "And you have to feed me something better than sour gummies!"

"How about coffee ice cream with chocolate chips?" he hollered back.

"And plenty of ale!" she laughed as she vanished amongst them.

Andrew shook his head as he saluted her goodbye. Grinning to himself he turned into his abode and mentally tried to plan for tomorrow. This was going to be fun and no bounty hunting was going to ruin it. Hopefully.


	2. The Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set between House of Wolves and Taken King, Andrew is captured by a Kell who is keen to get some information from him. In his interrogations, Andrew finds spider-holes in his mind that he can crawl into.

Andrew disliked the vibrations of the Ketch floor. The alien craft felt like it was drawing the life out of him, but that could have been the bonds that his captors had him in.

He made sure his uneasiness didn't show in his expression. Ordinarily, fallen walked wearily around guardians, warlocks especially, but a shackled prisoner who had more chains then a Hive abomination was less intimidating. Any display of trepidation was apt to encourage the two dregs into cuffing and prodding him along more than they had been already.

It made him even more nervous to step, or rather be dragged, from one new section of the ship to the other, however, to a warlock this was a learning opportunity. Since the only Ketch he, and countless others, had been on had belonged the House of Winter on Venus, he was only ably to explore limited sections. Now, his captors saw it as an excuse to show of their own strength and make the thought of any attempt of escape hopeless. What they did not know was that they never caught his Ghost, who was following them wherever they went.

When they passed through the next door, even he, who had only been on one ketch, could tell this room was meant for the throne room. Fallen version of luxury differed greatly from anything in the City. Normally people that could afford luxurious items, legal or otherwise, would display them in a way to give something more to the room. These remnants of the House of Wolve's throne room looked as if they not only stole it or ripped it away from their victims, but also lost complete interest in them after the Kell took possession. Everything from dead ghosts to old engines littered the room with rarer items surrounding the throne proper.

Their Kell was a giant, even for Kell standards, tall and lean, with golden ornaments hanging from its massive curved horns and some alien-fur trimming his blue-grey body.

One of the dregs shoved Andrew, and he pitched forward with fetters clattering.

"Kneel before Kell Uurdo!" snarled the guard.

Uurdo's mouth, or what Andrew could assume was his mouth underneath their hideous ether-masks, twisted as though he found this roughness crude. Still, he thanked the dreg with a back-handed slap and ordered them to secure Andrew's chains to a steel ring mounted on the wall before dismissing them.

Uurdo went over to one of the many oblong containers in the room. Hissing ether vapors came pouring out, Uudro inhaled most of them and Andrew noted the use for those once useless containers. "Do you understand who I am," he asked in basic, clicking every word. "what's happening to you, and why?"

"The condescension in the Kell's tone rankled. Andrew hid his disgust rather well, just as he hid his anxiety.

"Can't really say," Andrew answered. "One second I was studying black-stone glyphs, the next your kind ambush me."

"They're coming for us." Uurdo took in more ether. "Now tell me why the Taken are stealing my kind! Was killing Scolas not enough?"

Under other circumstances, Andrew might have spat at the Kell but he was a man of logic and reasoning and this new entity, the Taken, was appealing. "How should I know? I only arrested him, never fought him in the Prison of Elders. I don't believe in hitting an enemy when their down."

"Lies!" The ether was now driving the Kell's emotions and body. A mere slap knocked Andrew unconscious.

* * *

_A dozen boys pushed and shoved one another - grabbed, tackled, rolled down the slope, and then got up and started again._

_King of the Hill, it was originally called, but the boys decided to call it the Crucible instead. Each one wanted to be as great as Lord Saladin, and fought for ever scrap of the dirt mound as they could._

_One boy stood at the peak. He blocked, pushed, and strong-armed all the other children._

_"What a moron," a six year old Andrew said, gazing up at the freckled king. He was half way up the dirt pile, but unlike the other boys Andrew had decided to find a nice place to relax and remain. Let the others do the fighting, he was fine were he was._

_The boy at the top was a head bigger than the other boys, brown hair, few missing teeth, and covered in dirt and freckles. He was also stronger than the other boys if his performance in the game was any indicator. One boy grabbed him from behind in a headlock. The current king peeled the boy off, and - with a mocking laugh - tossed him down the hill side like a toy._

_Andrew chuckled as the boy tumbled to the bottom, got up, and ran for another attempt. He leaned back in the dirt to allow the warm late-spring time sun to work its odd magic, but something caught his eye._

_A blur of brown and gold flashed by him and six other boys, even the king was taken back. That brief hesitation was all she needed, Layla had almost successfully brought the current king tumbling down with her, but this boy was smarter then she liked. Instead of the two of them rolling down the dirt mound, it was just her. She collided with Andrew on the way down, and the two of them tumbled down to the bottom in a cloud of dust, laying in a heap of tangled limbs._

_"Nice move," Andrew groaned._

_"Shut up," she snapped, "and get your foot out of my face!"_

_"Then get off my back!"_

_Andrew noticed that Layla's normally long golden locks had been cut shorter than usual. Guess that inst-a-stick gum did more damage then Andrew expected. Though it did make here look more like a boy now._

_"Hey!" the king, whose name was Kevin, screeched at them. "The Crucible is for boys only! Get lost!"_

_To most girls that comment would have sent them crying or for a teacher, but not Layla. "What's the matter?! Afraid that I'm gonna come up there and kick your ass?!"_

_Before he could answer, Kevin had been ganged up on by three other boys. Two grabbed his legs and one threw his arms around his chest. They all tumbled down the hill. Kevin kicked and punched and bit his attackers until they let go and ran away to a safe distance. He rose and tore back up the hill, bumping another boy and shouting that he was Lord Saladin._

_Layla wanted so badly to be a part of that attack, to make the freckled bastard be quiet for once, but Andrew held her back. She was still mad at him for the gum he got stuck in her hair, and blamed him for having it cut off._

_"Let go."_

_"No way. You can't win."_

_"Says who? You? I've already begun my Titan training, I can take him!"_

_"Look, that last gang almost got him," Andrew explained. "But I think the two of us can beat him."_

_"Us? Last I checked, those three failed at the attempt."_

_"Only because they didn't work together, if they beat him then they'd be fighting each other back to the top."_

_"So? That's the point of the game," said Layla. "What's the point of helping someone else out if you loose in the end?"_

_It wasn't a question, but Andrew knew the answer. For him it was blatantly obvious. "Think about. We, a girl and a class nerd beats the strongest kid in the class before the bell rings, we are the unquestioned champions."_

_Layla scrunched her face up to think it through, but the gleam in her eyes told Andrew that she was determined._

_"Fine," she said, "but this better work!"_

_The two children sprinted up the hillside, pushing aside other boys who got in their way. Kevin, who had just gotten back up the hill, had not expected another group to come so quickly. Most alliances who have broken up by now, but this was different. Andrew threw all of his six-year-old weight into Kevin's abdomen, knocking the wind out of the boy. Layla had come up from the side, successfully knocking Kevin to the ground and getting Andrew off of him._

_Gravity did their work for them as Kevin tumbled to the bottom of the dirt mound in a cloud. None of the other boys tried to help him as he lay sprawled on his stomach, gasping for air._

_Layla helped her comrade back to his feet and they both made it to the top of the hill. Before any of the other children could argue this, the school bell had rung. Recess and the game were over. The two new monarchs let out a triumph whoop._

* * *

The dull aching in his head brought Andrew back out of his unconsciousness. There was blood in his mouth, and from probing around with his tongue he had noticed that two of his back molars had been knocked out.

 _"Great,"_  he thought.  _"Guess I'm gonna ask Joanna to make me some new teeth."_

Andrew spat out the blood and useless teeth. The clacking of the human's teeth awoke the Kell's attention.

"You are awake." He said, showing no concern for his prisoner.

"No thanks to my pounding head," said Andrew. He tried a simple warlock technique to lessen the pain, all he had to do was focus on it. Though the ether fumes were starting to addled his concentration.

"Hmmmm..." The creature said, eye Andrew the same way a cat eyes a large rat. "You're persistence is admirable, but foolish. Tell me, why would a guardian choose to help the Taken?"

The dull aching in his head and the ether mist was not helping Andrew's mental process at all. "What are the Taken? You keep saying their name like I should know it."

"I assumed you want to keep us away lest we stir up something your kid left behind." He leaned in close. "Perhaps the Taken have already corrupted you."

Andrew shook his head. The motion permitted him to take a surreptitious look through the large window at jungles of Venus - his world - streaking outside. It seemed tantalizing close and depressingly distant at the same time. "We don't know anything about these Taken."

Uurdo cackled. "I suspect you just don't want to share old legends that might make me more interested than I already am. But that is pointless. More of my kind keep disappearing past the Belt, and not only Fallen, but also Kabal, Hive and Vex. So I want to know why."

"I don't know anything about the Taken."

"You realize I took you prisoner because I believe otherwise. Your kind, Warlocks, are always saying how much you know. But, if I decide you are no use..." the Kell shrugged. "But I think you are lying, so here is how it will work. You can confide in me now and receive lenient treatment. Or, I hand you over to my interrogators. Your choice."

Andrew spat a glob of spit onto Uurdo's ivory white mask. "I don't know anything about the Taken."

"Stubborn to the end."

A cloud of ether vapors enveloped Andrew, sending him back into unconsciousness.

* * *

_Andrew lay there in his tent, blankets pulled up over his head._

_These feelings that he was experiencing were like nothing he had before. Anger, resentment, pain, guilt, and sadness all washed over him at once. He should not have been feeling this way, Warlocks were being warrior-scholars of the Light. He would devote himself to understanding the Traveler and its power. To a Warlock, his mind would be an arsenal of deadly secrets, balancing between godhood and madness, but now he felt on the verge of madness._

_What he had seen..._

_All of him wished he could take it back if that was possible. It kept replaying in his mind over and over again, and every time it felt as if he was being stabbed._

_His Ghost, who had yet been given its nickname of, had materialized over him. "Master Zahl wants to speak with you."_

_Andrew rolled to his side. "I'm not in the mood."_

_"He figured as much which is why he said that if you do not show in the next minute, then you will have to do several mental durability tests."_

_That did motivate the young warlock-to-be to at least leave his cot. The last mental durability test he had to preform made him lift a two ton husk of iron. He did not want to know what he would have been doing if he was late._

_The Pillar of Knowledge, a spiraling hall of white stone raised on the edge of the City's boarder was a thing of beauty and a testament to the Warlock Order. It contains the precious treasures of the Golden Era or as little that was accumulated after the downfall and years of scavenging burned libraries. Even so, what had been saved consumed a near endless spiraled library that started from the base of the tower to it's top most was here, at the base, in a far alcove that could see into the outside world all by the choosing of the occupant's privacy, he found his master._

_Beneath the moon's silvery light, Zahl rested back in a wooden chair that were made out of the boughs of a large evergreens, and moved in order to comfort him. The brightness of the waning moon, as it dipped and dodged behind fast-moving, scattered clouds, entranced the young apprentice._

_Zahl could not see the moon, of course, but the old Awoken enjoyed the brisk night no less. He would listen to the many sounds carried on the breeze, the chatter of a thousand creatures that the human never even noticed. It was getting hard to tell if they were still in the Pillar of Knowledge, or actually outside._

_Looking at his master, so at ease and accepting, Andrew felt the pangs of friendship, self-loathing, and guilt. "Perhaps it was a bad idea," he whispered, turning his gaze to the moon._

_"Why?" Zahl asked quietly. "You don't like my cooking?" His good humor smile disarmed Andrew as the human turned back to him somberly._

_"Becoming a warlock, I mean," Andrew explained, managing a laugh in spite of his melancholy. "Sometimes I think my choice a selfish one."_

_"Life usually is," Zahl replied. "I have felt the same way myself on some occasions. First time no older than you. But what, pray-tell, would make you change your mind when you are so far long? Can you really see you as anything else?"_

_Andrew thought a moment. "I don't know, maybe a Titan."_

_Zahl was quiet and then started to shake. Andrew had thought it was a stroke at first, but when Zahl's head flew back he heard the genuine laughter._

_"I never heard you say something like that!" the blind awoken said. "So now you want to become a one-ton statue who chooses to limit their mind rather than expand it? I never thought you'd be that unpredictable."_

_Andrew used simple mental exercises to deal with anger building in his adolescent mind. "How I wish it would pass."_ _He remarked more to himself or the night than Zahl._

_"Is yours an honest lament?" Zahl asked him. "Most are not, you know. Most self-imposed burdens are founded on misconceptions. We - at least we who are willing to think - always judge ourselves by stricter standards than we expect others to abide by. Its both a curse and a blessing I suppose, depending on how you view it." He gave Andrew the briefest of gazes. "I see it as a learning opportunity."_

_"A frustrating bless," Andrew replied._

_"Only when you do not pause to consider the advances that the striving has brought you," Zahl was quick to reply, as though he was expecting his student's word. The blind awoken knew that his young student was going through the ugly pubescent years that were common his race's aging, so his mood swings had become quite common._

_Andrew fought for any words to say, "It's... It's just... I don't know. I don't know what this striving can bring me when it hurts too much!"_

_The memories came back. He had just returned from his first ranging in Edo Expanse, and wanted to tell Layla all about the things he had saw. About the odd creature that he encounter, about the odd spirit-like creatures called Kodamas that called the choked jungle home, and the knowledge he learned. What he returned to was not what he wanted._

_He found Layla in her barracks, as usual, but this time someone else was with her. Of all the people she could have been with, he could not find how or why she would want to be with Kevin. The boy that tormented both of them as children, was with her. Both in the literal and quite physical sense._

_"Those who aspire to less accomplish less. There can be no doubt in your actions, no matter how much it hurts. It is better, I think, to grab at the stars than to sit flustered because you know you cannot reach them." He shot Andrew his typical wry smile. "At least he who reaches will get a good stretch, a good view, and perhaps some low hanging fruit for his efforts."_

_"And perhaps a bullet fired by some unseen assailant," Andrew replied sourly._

_Zahl tilted his head helplessly against his student's unending stream of pessimism. It pained him deeply to see his normally good-hearted human so scarred. "He might indeed,"Zahl said, a bit more harshly than he had intended, "but the loss of life is only great to those who chance to live it! Let your bullet come in low and catch the huddler on the ground, I say. His lose would not be so tragic."_

_Andrew could not deny his logic, nor the comfort his master gave to him. The lessons he had given him before had been pragmatic in nature - how to use his own learning and command of the ever changing tides of space magic to his advantage - and rarely on the inner working of his mind. A wave of anger crashed through Andrew. Zahl had nearly three-hundred years of life experience, with possibly another century to go, surely something could help his troubled student. Or maybe this was another lesson, some kind of test because he arrived late again. Or perhaps - and the most obvious - Zahl did not know what was wrong with him because he truly did not know. There were times when Andrew had to remind himself that his teacher was blind._

_Andrew took a quick breath and told him about what he had witnessed, what both Layla and Kevin meant in his head, and the unknown emotions he experienced. Part of him expected Zahl to laugh it off, another that he would ignore it entirely, and the rare moment that he would dismiss him for being his student all together._

_Zahl, aged and wised and with respect within the warlock order, knew his student was concealing something. All it boiled down to was his age, and the poor boy would have to figure that out on his own. All Zahl could do was offer some words of wisdom and hoped they would help._

_"All hearts are broken, all lives end, but every scare heals my young student," Zahl said at length._ _"You have only experienced one moment in life, and there will be more. But, for now, the scats are few, and they will fade."_

_Andrew, not so certain, put a lamenting look upon him, and Zahl could only offer a comforting pat on the head as he rose and headed off for bed._

* * *

Nearly ten-thousand volts of electricity jolted through his body, snapping Andrew out of his unconscious memories.  _"Great..."_  he coughed, his lungs were eagerly trying to suck in enough air in order to keep him alive.  _"Why did I have to remember that?"_

Though the memory stung, time, training, and discipline all seemed to temper those feelings. Besides, that experience was the time when he decided to commit himself further to the warlock order. This experience, however, was completely different.

Judging from the look of things, they had moved him from the Kell's throne room to its torture chamber. Though the word morgue also came to mind. Not that it mattered. A scattering of instruments lay on a stand, indicators lights marked pieces of electronic equipment, the air was chilly.

Andrew was naked except for a pair of trunks, and the framework that supported him came from the ceiling, holding him in mid-air. Guess that's was the use of all the hooks and chains. The light, for how much there was, stung his eyes, but when Andrew managed to penetrate the glare, he could see a hazy figure that had to be Uurdo. Somehow they managed to transplant the kell's throne into here, where-ever here was, and was raised high enough that it gave the alien a better view of the proceedings.

"So," Uurdo said, "how are you feeling?"

"Oh.." he gasped. "You know... besides the bruises, ether in my lungs, electricity coursing though my body, and now needles... splendid. Everything is coming up roses." Another discharge of electricity charged through his body again. "Take a joke, assholes!"

His throat was already sore from screaming, his body was soaked with sweat, and as he tilted his head down he could see clusters of needles protruding from various parts of his body. All of which hurt like hell.

"I guess asking for an aspirin would be too much to ask?" that gained him another shock, but it was less than before. "Though so!"

"You would be glad to hear that Kuvaro can relieve pain just as well as he admits it," Uurdo replied. "However, before we move to that stage, let us review what we have so far... You were sent to gather information on us. Correct?"

"Yes," Andrew replied hoarsely.

"And," Uurdo continued, "you claim to have no information on the Fallen or their King."

Andrew knew that the leads attached to his body were connected to some sort of Fallen lie detector. So the key was to tell as much of the truth as he could without revealing too much. However, since he had no idea who the Taken or their King were he had nothing to hide.

He had to find spider holes in his mind and crawl in, no matter how much it hurt.

The creature known as Kuvaro stepped out. A vandal class, but only had three arms - two and a half was more like it. One was a shriveled husk while the bottom right one was gone altogether.

"He speaks the truth, my Kell," he spoke in the same broken common. "Or at least a version of it. He seems to know nothing about the Dreadnought, or maybe he is hiding it."

"I do not believe it," Uurdo responded cynically. "Who knows? Maybe he has some kind of warlock mind trick. Try again."

"As you command." Kuvaro obeyed, and Andrew experienced a jolt of pain so powerful that it felt as if his skull might crack open. So, when the tidal wave of darkness arrived he was grateful for it and allowed himself to be carried away.

* * *

_He was watching her from the worn out sofas._

_Her laughter was lighter this night, lighter than it had been in a long time, and she knew her comrades felt the difference. Her sight spinning, her tone was up, and she danced._

_Danced as she had never before danced, and the energy of the night. Tonight was a night of exploration and celebration._

_Spun once more, she lost her balance and careened drunkenly to the side with the laugh, tripping on the carpet and sliding towards the floor - only to be caught at the last second by a pair of wiry arms a hand-span before she would have struck the metal floor face first. Righted immediately, she grasped Andrew's shoulders to calm the rolling motions about her._

_"Thank you."_

_Andrew's eyes were her point of focus as the world around her started to refocus, and they crinkled as he smiled but that smile didn't quite make it into his gaze. "So this is your idea of a second date?"_

_Something in his tone caught and held her attention, the sounds of the electronic music fading into the background as the other workers quickly backed off to give her and the warlock some space. Secrets rarely stayed that way in the Tower, and it had been established that they were together, and none of the were willing to intrude on such a moment. None would be of Holliday's mechanics were willing to face a Warlock or a Titan; not even Holliday itself._

_Her blood settled, the focus she normally held returning, and Layla's smile faded as she took in the way he wasn't quite meeting her gaze despite looking at her. "What is it?"_

_Without looking, she knew the gaze he darted over her shoulder was at the rest of the dockworkers._

_The smile on her face turned positively evil, she cast a look over her shoulder as she took Andrew's hand and winked at the other sailors. "Excuse us boys and girls, but I and this warlock have unfinished business."_

_Catcalls and whistles followed them as she dragged Andrew away, going past the Dead Orbit recruitment station and the Quartermaster until they were finally outside, before rounding on him. The music coming from the gathering room was faint in the distance and none of the guardians would see them or care. In short, they were hidden in plain sight. Turning back to Andrew, Layla didn't drop his hand._

_"Andrew?"_

_He wasn't looking at her. Instead, his gaze was out across the city, shielded by a warlock mask of stoic calm._

_Andrew knew better than to argue with her; she was far too perceptive - too able to see past the walls of stoicism he had erected to protect himself. Sometimes he wondered if she had chosen the right profession. Not that it mattered. Without saying a word and with little more than a glance, Layla seemed to understand just why tonight affected him so much._

_"You could have danced with me if you wanted."_

_"Thanks, but no."_

_"'I won't judge – much."_

_"I'm not of the same opinion. Besides, you have seen me 'dance."_

_Crossing her arms over her chest, Layla regarded her boyfriend thoughtfully, assessing him with a quiet perusal that always had the power to unnerve the strongest and most stout-hearted of her companions; Layla could always see things no others could no matter how well hidden. That simple trait made Andrew shift uncomfortably, unwilling to meet her gaze._

_She snorted softly. "You're not that bad. I have seen worse, and it never bothered them or me. Tell me, what is today?"_

_The answer hung between them. It the anniversary of Kevin's disappearance._

_His gaze finally lifted to hers, and he was caught by the genuine smile spreading across her lips._

_"Do you see any sorrow?"_

_"Not at all."_

_"Anguish?"_

_He shook his head._

_"Anything that might be akin to them?"_

_Captured in her beautiful eyes, he knew that even in her past grief she still had strength in her. He shook his head once more. "I do not."_

_"Nope. Absolutely nada. I'm a free-wheeling single girl reveling in her statues as you please. One hundred percent available and open to offers from eligible single guardians."_

_"As you say."_

_"I swear, sometimes I think those helmets have completely blinded you, Andrew." Regarding him shrewdly, Layla tilted her head and smiled faintly. "You can dance; I've seen ye."_

_"Yeah, alone."_

_"You're always alone," Even on bounties and missions, he went alone. This was why he did not participate in the raids on the Vault of Glass or Temple of Crota. "But not tonight. Dance with me."_

_"Layla-"_

_"There's no one here but me and you, and I won't laugh too hard," defeating his objection before it was fully voiced, she extended her hand. "Dance with me."_

_"I don't think-"_

_"You warlocks think too much. Just shut up and dance with me."_

_Her gentle scolding had the effect she desired, and Andrew reluctantly stepped closer, glancing apprehensively back around them. Guardians of every kind and experience scattered below them, keeping to their own business and not noticing two other guardians dressed as civilians dance above them. Layla gently turned his face back her way with one hand as she placed the other on his shoulder._

_"Eyes forward. You'll do fine."_

_There was no censure in her gaze. No hint of condemnation as he took a hesitant step in the fashion the workers had been doing earlier. Layla guided him into the first steps of one of the several formal dances she knew. They were standing too close, but she did not care. Life was always better the closer he was to her - she simply did not wish or want to examine why._

_They stumbled together as Andrew attempted to take the lead and stepped with the wrong foot first, making them both laugh as it resulted in an unintentional dip and weave to bring them back into balance. Layla spun slightly away before Andrew improvised to bring her back close. This time, he grinned and led her off on the right foot before drawing them both around in a large circle._

_"See? It's not so hard is it?"_

_"I have an excellent teacher."_

_Her sapphire eyes sparkled as he responded to the claim by lifting his arm and pressing her into a spin. "It's not so different from using space magic, is it?"_

_The look he sent her was full of disbelief and made her laugh. "Only the foot work. I found dancing does not a chance of exploding in your face."_

_Shocked by his claim, Layla's feet stopped moving until a certain glimmer of his tease shone from his eyes. "Though I have found that this kind of magic is a bit more responsive and enjoyable."_

_"You're terrible!" Swatting at him, she retook her position and Andrew led her back into the flow she'd momentarily disrupted. "I would've thought you could appreciate such a fine weapon in your hands. It's not every day you have the chance to wield such craftsmanship."_

_Understanding the taunt for what it was, they shared a look and a laugh before Andrew sent her into a series of spins - each one faster than the last - that left her breathless and disoriented. Andrew however was a fast learner and, unlike the dock-workers who had let her falter before, stopped the turns by pulling her closer. Far closer than before, they moved back into the steps of the dance. His only concession was that he moved slowly to accommodate her sudden handicap._

_Layla was now wrapped firmly in his strong embrace and almost flush against him, was purely born out of consideration for her loss of equilibrium but brought with it its own set of problems. The chivalrous warlock did his best to ignore how good, or how right, it felt to have her in his embrace and instead tried to distract them both while drawing her with him. His sense of honor would not allow him to release her while she was unsteady on her feet._

_"Where'd you learn to dance?"_

_"Could you believe that Natzram taught me when my father wasn't around?"_

_"Will you blame me if I said yes?"_

_Her laughter was soft. "Not in the least!"_

_The look he sent her said otherwise and a surprising blush flooded her face. "I love to dance. I've always loved to dance."_

_Andrew's nod was all that was necessary. Layla's smiled almost sheepishly. "While waiting for my lessons to start, Natzram decided I needed some lessons on other things than how to shoot something."_

_Pulling them both up short, Andrew searched her gaze as his hands dropped slowly away from her but quickly moved back, cupping her face. "You've no need to change, babe. Everything about you is unique; never change for someone else."_

_"I didn't think to," she retorted, but there was no heat in her words. "But I'm also for knowing that the more we know, the more we grow - even if the lesson isn't an easy one. Ye taught me that."_

_"So you learned to dance." His thumbs brushed over her cheeks and this time when he smiled, she could see it clear to his eyes. "And you decided to teach me."_

_"Knowledge is power, right?"_

_"Thank you."_

_Leaning forward, his lips replaced the pad of his thumb on one gentle swell, but Layla's head turned, catching his lips with her own. It was not deliberate, but rather an instinctive turn of her head towards the palm, that cupped it. His eyes widened, as did hers and neither moved. Within a series of heartbeats, the kiss went from accidental to deliberate. Andrew's hands slid into her hair even as hers slid up his forearms and then down around his waist._

_Flush against one another, Layla's heart raced against her chest as their eyes closed. She kissed him passionately, as passionately as she had ever had, even more than Kevin. Whatever she was feeling was amplified in that moment by the knowledge that he would not take advantage - and all she had to do was ask..._

_A slight moan escaped her lips as she shifted sinuously against him, but the sound hung in the silence between them as Andrew tore his lips from hers. His breathing was heavier than normal, as was hers, and the image in her mind of burning lavender eyes was a reality as hers fluttered open. Slowly, they seemed to orient themselves to their surroundings, almost clinging to one another for support as reality returned._

_They shared a silent look, the kiss hanging between them for a long moment as if searching to see what the other would do. To retreat - or to take another step beyond the borders of the friendship they'd built... a friendship solidly and profoundly built on mutual respect and love._

_Layla exhaled softly and nodded back the way they had come. "We should be getting back."_

_Andrew's response was to take a step in the right direction - but even as he did so, his fingers curled around hers and squeezed. Their eyes met once more, speaking the words that neither of them was ready to hear, and neither was ready to say. He offered a smile, one she returned even as she sent silent thanks to whatever gods remained._

_No matter what the future brought, he was, and always would remain, hers._

* * *

Andrew had died and gone to Hell.

That's what he assumed anyway, given his inability to see, and the pain that racked his body. There was light, he knew that, because he could see it through his lids, and feel the heat of it. So he attempted to open his eye - but it felt as if they were glued shut. The obvious solution was to reach up and rub them. When he tried to do so he discovered that his hands were now bound behind him.

The constant muffled sounds in his ears were now starting to fade and were replaced with actual, though broken, speech.

"What do you mean the electricity is losing its effectiveness?" It could have only been Uudro and he was not happy.

"My-Kell, you must understand, we have put nearly a hundred-thousand volts into him, and with each increase, his body begins to build an unnatural immunity."

An immunity to electricity? This was new. Warlock did have an unnatural resistance to both the void and radiance, this helped them have some control over them, but electric was something new entirely.

When... If he got out of this, he would have to tell the Seeker his new discovery.

He felt strong alien claws grab him by the head and jerked him upward, or at least as far as he could go. The motion caused his eyes to snap open. Bright burning light filled his vision and he wished that he could close them again, but Uudro's massive head leered down at him. To his own credit, Andrew did not look away, knowing the effect it would have on a creature who thought like a ravenous beast.

"Your will is strong, guardian, I will give you that," Uudro growled. "But I grow tired of your defiance. Tell me about the Taken's plans, and I will ensure a quick and painless death."

The Kell wasn't kidding, he brought his own shock dagger out. Even with his newly found electrical resistance, a knife was still a knife.

"I'm... touched..." Andrew croaked.

Uudro was at the end of his wits and was considering to put the human down for good.  _"Great. Another witty comment. That's all I can come up with. I'm sorry, babe. I thought we would have more time... Layla... The prettiest woman in the whole god damn world..."_

Uudro saw the human's eyes dart around. What others might see as panicking, Uudro knew that he was assessing his surroundings."

"I just thought... we could play the Spying game... You ever play?" Andrew kept looking. This time he tipped his head to the side, barely making it past Uudro's enormous crest. It was painful, but he thought he heard a sound coming closer to them. "It's a pretty easy game, so I'll go easy on you. I say a letter, and you have to guess what I see... I spy... something... that begins with..."

The noise was getting louder. The familiar roaring of gunfire and the death cry of the Fallen. He hoped he was right.

Uurdo behind him. The wall bulged for a second like a tank wrecking-ball hit it.

"T..." Andrew smiled. "Can you guess what it is?"

Metal, joist, and dust exploded everywhere just as he raised one arm to shield his face. Before he could bring himself to bear on the what was happening, another guardian in heavily ornate black, yellow and gold armor was on him. From it's slight frame, even with the bulky armor, he could tell that it was a female. Her face was covered by a helmet the was crafted in a constant grimace, but even he could feel the rage underneath.

She fired on the Kell. An instant storm of white light and deafening noise left the giant fallen reeling backward. Uudro barely had enough time before the guardian's barrage put him down for good.

Andrew spat the dust out of his mouth and tried to blink the rest out of his eyes. He looked at the crumpled remain of Uudro and smiled. "T is for Titan. See? I win."

Layla grabbed him by the shoulders. At first, a wave of peace washed over him, and Andrew could feel the pain melt away, then came the barrage of punches and insults.

"You idiot!" she cursed at him. Her punches were not as strong as the one beat down she gave the Kell, but it was enough to get her point across. "How could you take a bounty into unknown regions and not tell me?! I though warlocks are supposed to be smart."

"I get it! I get it! I'm stupid, got it!" Andrew said between the flurry. "Knock it off!... I'm the one injured here!"

Layla's face turned from anger to genuine concern.

"Enough sitting around," the Titan said as she cut Andrew free. "It's time for you to go to work."

Andrew nearly choked as Layla gave him a sip of water. "It's nice to see you too, babe," Andrew said, once he had recovered enough. Layla giggled a bit. "What's so funny?"

"Oh, nothing. You just look rather sexy in those trunks," Layla chided.

"Yeah. I love you too." He said dryly but meant every word.

"Hold onto those words, and me," She clutched him so tightly to her chest that he thought she'd break all the bones that Uudro hadn't. A vibration rose through his body, it might have been romance but it was the ship beginning to buckle as more systems began to fail and her armor's power unit revving up. "Really tight."

As a warlock, Andrew routinely broke the laws of gravity. It was one of their most prized practices, and more veteran scholars, such as himself, learned how the teleporting skill of Blink. But taking off like a rocket while clinging to a Spartan was a rare and terrifying novelty. A chunk of broken joist ripped past his arm as they scraped through the gap, but he didn't care. He was glad to be out of there and even more glad to see other guardians attacking the ketch on all sides. It was a waste, seeing how most were destroying for the sake of destruction, but he learned all he could and would document it later... If this flight would not be the death of him.

They were flying now. Layla had an, experimental, SUROS S-10 Angel propulsion system. He had seen them once , and they poor comparison to the heavily ornate Angel Wings back in the Cryptarch Temple, but they still graceful and beautiful. Just like her.

Nearly transparent wings of energy spread four feet outward, and five back, allowing her to fly to advance at speeds through even the most tangled terrain that Venus could throw at her.

"I'm not going to drop you," she said. Andrew tried to look down and caught a glimpse of trees below. "But I don't normally land with passengers, so prepare for the possibility of a few more bruises." She paused. "And I'm really glad you can't hear our ghosts right now. Pervs."

Andrew would have made a witty comment at that, but the trees rushed past him without warning. He then thought what landing underneath nearly one-ton of armored Titan would do to him.

There was no thud. No crash either. Just a gale force of wind coming from the opposite direction as their speed descended and then stopped. Peaking underneath, they were mere inches from the ground and the wings were disappearing in a magnificent display of twinkling lights.

"Perfect as always," she said; peeling him off her. He almost lost his balance. "Even with the extra weight affects the handling, I came to a dead stop."

Andrew wobbled for a moment and sat on a bolder, trying to calm his rapid heartbeat. Layla had taken her helmet off to see him better, golden hair covered with sweat. Leaning over him for a moment, Andrew pulled her in and gave big noisy kiss right on the mouth.

"You're bloody brilliant," he grinned as she recoiled. "Thanks, babe."

"Ick," she said. "Now I've got to clean my mouth out."

"I knew you'd come."

She missed a beat. It was noticeable, no matter how much blood he lost. "I'll  _never_  leave you behind."

 _Oooh._  He loved that determined yet baffled look on her face. His ghost finally appeared, with his boots, coats, gauntlets, mark and helmet. It felt like he was putting on a second skin; bumps, cuts and bruises aside. Now they had to get back to the city, then the healing could begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I realize I play pretty fast and loose with the lore. Mainly because, at the time I was writing this stuff, Destiny only had set amount of context and the infamous Grimoire Cards. So the only true place I could go for lore were fanforums or wikis. Neither as helpful so I had to make some stuff up. Hopefully it is nothing too canon breaking.


	3. On the Wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guard duty on the Wall can be long and boring affairs. Any food that the Guardians get is tough and tasteless, the Guardians that do the Patrols are just as much. Fortunately, Layla has a Warlock that can fix that.

**The Wall, Last City. Earth.**

The first thing any pilgrim would notice approaching the Last City was the Wall. It was ancient and overwhelming. When the first builders in the Titan Order had them built, it was said they were at a minimum of two-hundred feet high and one-hundred feet think. With time and advances in technology, certain parts of the Wall were now bands of energy, but most of it remained of the original stone and metal.

Layla hocked and spat over into empty air. With any luck, the gob would freeze in mid-air and hit a hiding dreg. But as her luck of the day would have it, that was not to be the case.

Of all days, it had to be today. She just had to pull guard duty on a day like today.

The biting cold of winter, bland food, and endless mundane tasks protecting the City was not unknown to her, but Layla always felt that her talents were being wasted high above the world. What made matters worse for her was that she had to cancel yet another date with her lover. Sometimes she believed that Commander Zavala and her father had a twisted deal going on behind her back. She would not put it past her father, seeing how he had not warmed up to Andrew yet.

A gust of wind blew up and over the Wall, and the chill it brought with it acted more like a living creature than an act of nature. Even in her insulated armor, the chill was able to creep in and get into her bones.

She scooped in some of the lukewarm mush into her mouth, and partly swallowed partly chocked the concoction down. In theory, this grainy mush was to have all the vitamins and nutrients that could keep a Guardian fueled for months. But apparently, flavor and texture did not factor in or were thrown out altogether. Some of her fellow Titans experimented with syrup, butter, and alcohol, but Layla's method of dumping it over the side was perhaps the best.

There was a chuckle from behind her. "Are you daft, babe?" It was Andrew. The warlock had materialized and snatched her bowl away. He tried the remaining contents and then grimaced at the taste. "You don't actually eat this stuff. This garbage is reserved for others who are unfortunate enough not to have me as their lover. If you've been reduced to eating jellied cow hooves and pickled pigs feet, then I have failed you."

"I don't know, both of those sound better than this," She said with a heavy sigh. "I'm sorry I had to cancel, again."

"Well it's only the third one this month, but I'm not counting," He said nonchalantly, trying his best to ignore the fiery death glare she was giving him. He looked out onto the wilds beyond. "Now I have to admit, that is almost worth the flight up here. Pretty romantic for a date our."

"Just once I wish we could have a normal date. No bounties. No rescue missions. No riot or having to blow something's head off."

"I don't see that happening anytime soon," Andrew said quietly. "But that does not mean we can't find moments to enjoy."

He placed a large thermos on the wall's ledge. Twisting off the top, Andrew poured thick, creamy soup into her bowl. The hot liquid gave off white billows of steam in the cold air. It was far better than the nutritious swill that the cooks had given her, and had real pieces of chicken, rice, and even bacon threw into the mix.

"Also brought these," Andrew pulled out a tightly wrapped bundle from underneath his cloak. "I'm afraid I might have burnt the crust a bit, but the insides should taste good just the same."

It was bread. Rolls to be more exact, but real baked bread, not the rationed stuff that tasted like dust with a sandy aftertaste. There were eight rolls altogether, and a few had darkened skins, but the soft warm inside was perfect. She ate three of them before Andrew was done serving himself, using the hollowed out husks to scoop out any remaining soup.

"I have more," Andrew chuckled, "you don't need to eat your bowl."

"This is just one of the best meals I have eaten in a while is all," she had stopped to catch her breath. "So where did you get this from? Must have cost you a good handful of glimmer."

"Nothing more I can't make back from Ao in a game of Dice," Andrew scooped some soup into a hallowed roll, "But no. I made it."

"You made this?"

"Yes. You know I can cook," he smiled at her. "And I love cooking for those who I care about."

Layla turned away from Andrew, lest he makes some wise joke about her blushing next.


	4. Festival of the Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is set during the festival of the Lost event that happens around Halloween. Taken War. This takes place Post-Basically, it's a fun excuse to have my characters dress up.

* * *

**Tower, Last City. Earth.**

A crisp breeze blew from the east, fluttering the golden-red leaves and bringing forth the full aroma of spices and grass. Andrew leaned stopped on the railing, closed his eyes, and allowed his keen senses to absorb all of the wonderful smells and sounds that emanated from the City on this magical night. As the cool winds brought forth the scent of fried goods, spices, and sugar it also carried the roar of the much larger celebrations the distant city-proper and it just added to the eerie feeling surrounding the Tower. With a long sigh, he opened his eyes again and continued to mindlessly float about the activities, his eyes scanning the other guardians and observing how they danced in the electrified air.

It was the Festival of the Lost, a tradition held to remember those who have fallen and never risen once more, both Guardians and citizens alike. Rather than being a sorrowful time, the people of the City, instead, celebrate and find joy in their own lives, living in the moments protect for them by their long lost friends and saviors. Every individual, from Guardians doing the zombie dance to the well-known individuals wearing paper masks. The only exception was Eris, who simply found the tradition as He laughed to himself, noticing how his surroundings seemed to put him in a blissful mood even though so many troubling thoughts plagued his mind.

Andrew tried to focus on his sense of the surroundings and not remember what brought him here last time. He had been at the Tower several times throughout the horrors of the Taken War but rarely had he ever stopped to take it all in. The war had ended for now and he was now in-between jobs. Oryx was dead or rumored to be. If everything he had read from Tolland's journal, the Dreadnought should be a dissolving husk - regardless of what the Skyburners did in it. But it was still floating there. A stationary, tumorous island in the center of a perfect circle.

What could keep the ship there? This was if the mad Tolland could be believed, Oryx's Ascendant Realm, meaning everything and everyone in it was merely unwelcomed parasites... or food. Could that be what was keeping the ship there? Could the blood of Cabal, Hive, Taken and Guardians by the primer keeping the mammoth mausoleum in their existence? And if it was, could it be stopped?

Suddenly the cool wind made him shiver.

So many questions left unanswered debated his higher mind. Every time he tried to solve for an answer, none would come. It would hang tantalizingly close, just within his reach, and then it would fade to smoke and disappear into his subconsciousness.

This evening was meant to be a time for merriment and reflection, though his mind was still focused on the unsure certainty of the future, he was still wrapped in a feeling of melancholy. He was numb. The joy around him turned into a constant roaring in his ears, and the sights began to merge into a mesh of color. He did not feel an arm wrap around his.

"Where are you?" A voice said softly.

Andrew blinked. His just realized how dry his eyes were, and they required several blinks to allow any comfort to come back. He looked to the side and saw someone that might have been Layla if her outfit didn't make take a second look. Her face was covered in make-up the same color of sugar, which gold and red surrounding her hazel eyes and black lines going down her mouth and over her blood-red lips.

Layla was absolutely radiant in the outfit that was loose, yet would flutter in a way that it would outline her strong, yet shapely form. Her dress was a silken dark purple that came up to her shoulders and a belt of golden medallions circling her shapely hips. The large, broad-rimmed hat was decorated small skulls, pink-plumed, curly, swirly feathers, and palm leaves. Feathers of every kind made up the long boa that draped her shoulders. The Heart of Europa rested right in the center, tempting all to look. Andrew inhaled the aroma of her favorite flower, the rare blush roses, that seeped from Layla's hair and felt completely, blissfully at peace.

It was a moment that seemed to defy everything that the Warlock knew of time and space, unable to pry his eyes away from her glowing, hazel orbs and the golden braids that hung over one shoulder.

"Have you come back?" Layla asked a slight smile building.

"I'm not quite sure, yet," Andrew said, surprised by his own voice. "I think my brain just did a hard reset."

She chuckled, and Andrew cursed at himself for such a dull quip. "Well, hopefully, it comes back on soon. I would hate for you to be spending the festival all alone."

"I wouldn't be alone if I have you."

"Well unless someone else rubs my elbow the right way."

Andrew gave a sarcastic laugh, Layla just gave her a playful slap.

"You do look rather handsome," she said.

Just as Layla based herself off an icon from Earth's past, so did Andrew. He wore a black suit with a white undershirt, gold embroidery on the sides, and golden belt. His broad-rimmed hat was smaller and less decorative than Layla's. Crow feathers and small, fake, skulls dangled from it. His face was painted to look more like a skull, making his already gaunt face look downright terrifying.

Layla clasped his arm. "Now come on, the night is young and so are we."

* * *

 

The tradition to the Festival of the Lost was known a time to remember. This included lighting a candle for each lost comrade that has been lost over the years. The thought was that the smoke would find them and lead them back to the light of the Traveler.

It was a solemn but necessary tradition.

Andrew lit seven candles, while Layla lit five.

"I remember Bosk, Gilfrahad, Lynella-2, Kageros-5... and Kevin." That last name she had to force out of her.

"I remember Vaclav, Belnel, Doria, Djareh-4, Justin Celis, Khanzhar, and Master Zahl."

The look was quick, but prominent since Andrew did hide his emotions rather well when he needed to. It was a look of melancholy and sadness, and Layla thought her lover might slip into one of his dark moods again.

"Mistress Robinson! Mistress Robinson!" a little cacophony of voices called from around their legs, breaking Andrew out of his mood.

They looked down to see five young, human and Awoken children running up to them; all of them wearing paper masks of their heroes from the crucible or enemies that they would have the fortune to never fight. The group consisted one Lord Shaxx, a Crota, and one that looked like Layla's helmet.

"Guess you have an audience," Andrew said. "Any tale in particular?"

"I think I have a few."

Sitting on the couches that New Monarchy happily 'donated', she began her tale of how she was a part of the Cleansing of Seoul. That would be an epic tale for the youngsters. The Cleansing of Seoul was the largest and most ambitious military endeavor ever undertaken by the forces of the City prior to the slaying of Crota. A Wizard by the name of Avut the Conjurer had built up a large infestation in the ruins of Seoul and had spread like ravenous cancer throughout the Korean peninsula.

"And there I was, surrounded by thralls," Layla said in a soft, mysterious tone as she eyed the nine little faces staring up at her with looks of wonder. "I was frozen, having swum from a frozen river, low on ammo and surrounded by the beasts. Suddenly they part and one of the largest Ogres I have ever seen came forward. As big as a mountain."

She leaned forward on the couch and stretched her arms out to exaggerate the ogre's size. The children gasped in shock and awe.

"Were you scared?" An awoken girl asked.

"I would be lying if I said I felt no fear," Layla continued. "yet I kept myself together, as I saw my companion Andrew coming around the ledge."

Andrew did not know what to make of that. Not only was he not there to help Layla, but he was also not even in Seoul or on Earth. He was scouring the old ruins of the Ishtar Academy on Venus when all of this happened. A pang of guilt resonated through him at the thought of Layla fighting unfavorable odds all alone.

The children gave soft cheers, and their looks of fear soon turned to admiration to the Warlock.

"I looked at the giant beast and said, 'I am Titan Layla Robinson. Slayer of Crota. Slayer of Atheon. Now come get some you darkspawn!"

The small children let out various gasps.

"What did you do next?" a little boy asked.

"Well, let's just say there is a reason why Seoul has some new holes in it."

The children applauded with chiming laughs as Layla rose and gave a bow.

"Who wants to go get candy?" One blurted out, all wrapped attention suddenly is gone. Layla looked over at Andrew and noticed that he had a hand covering his mouth.

"You truly have a way with words," Andrew said.

"And you have a way with voices."

"One of my many, useless, talents," he sighed. "Still, it was nice to finally know what happened to you in Seoul. But really? A giant ogre and one-hundred thralls?"

"Three knights, and only one slightly above average ogre," Layla said, unabashed.

"Yeah, your version is better." The Warlock should have stopped there, but his kind was naturally curious. "I don't recall being there though."

Layla shrugged, "I took some liberties. Plus they didn't seem to mind. Some of them actually were looking up to you. Quite literally."

Andrew chocked a chuckle and took Layla in his arms. He reached around to touch her only to have his hand slapped and pushed away. "Hey!"

"The night is still young, my love," she lectured, waving a finger at him. "Besides, there is a party at the St. Pierre estate, and I secured two tickets."

* * *

 

The St. Pierre estate was considered by most to be the unofficial seventh fort. As Andrew and Layla were admitted into the place, they decided they didn't know half of it.

The estate was situated in the affluent Terrace District, the northernmost of the territory owned by the City. The district consisted of layers of terraces cut into gentle slopes rising from the plains. Many of the lower terraces were given over to stacks of overpriced apartments and packs of townhouses that looked like they were built by a group of angry giants. Towards the top of the slope, however, looking out across the domain, the sprawled walled estates began to make their presence felt. Among the largest of these urban compounds was the one that belonged to the St. Pierre Merchant Family. They had acquired the estate sometime around the Early City Age either through blackmail or influence, depending on the story. All the stories agreed, however, that the estate represented the last of the Old Earth Nobility.

The St. Pierre's are known to have an influence in everything from the forges to the three factions. There were even rumors that without their endorsement, the Everess Trading Company would not exist or function.

The new matriarch, Mistress Claudine St. Pierre, clearly had an eye for both business and protection. Despite the outward appearance, nowhere was safe for any would-be invader. If they could make it pass the squads of reprogrammed Exos standing guard, then they would have a one-hundred-meter dash to get to the luxurious manner. Among the marigolds and lilies, there was no tree or bush where they could find cover, making it a beautiful killing ground.

Tonight, though, the grounds were covered with decorative items for the festival. Glow lamps led the couple through the flower gardens, giving the killing ground an almost mystical feel if neither one of them noticed a shade watching over them from the manor.

"The Hawk is hunting," Andrew murmured, slightly nodding to where he saw his friend duck from one shadow to another.

"Can't say Claudine isn't a woman who plans ahead," Layla said, noting the partially exposed pitfall in one of the ornate flower beds.

"I just hope drunk couples don't accidentally wander around where they shouldn't," Andrew whispered back.

The trail led them around the manor to the back. The doors that opened into Claudine's mansion were solid bronze. A small ornate window allowed a sentry inside the house to observe the situation outside the doors before opening them. Today, however, the Merchant Princess did not need such precautions. Andrew and Layla were expected, and even if the guards in the watchtowers had failed to inform them about the guests' arrival, then Cornelia had.

Inside, Claudine's mansion was lavishly appointed. Rich carpets graced marble hallways, rare paintings stared from walls paneled in exotic wood, crystal chandeliers with alchemical illuminators hung between the open skylights in the ceiling. Other guests dressed in lavish and absurd costumes dealt with immaculate servants who were trying their best to keep from anyone sneaking away or breaking something expensive.

The hallway ended in a sprawling ballroom, nearly one-thousand square meters, and occupied the full width of the mansion so that there were superb views on either side. The large arched windows provide enough light to relieve the vast quantity of gilded stucco decorating the walls, and the entire ceiling is covered by a monumental fresco entitled The Triumph of Russia.

The guests were all wearing decorative masks, but minor glimpses gave them away. Some were politicians while others were merchants and even guardians, all here because they were trying to garden favors with the young Merchant Princess. Much to her credit, Claudine was holding her own against the legal scum of the City while also playing as being a good host. The moment she saw the couple, however, Claudine quickly shook off her business deals and possible suitors as she made a line for them.

Some, like a very clingy Awoken woman wearing a silver mask, did not seem to get the message and had to be stopped by another Awoken female who was still in her Hunter armor.

"Andrew! Layla!" Claudine squealed as she rushed up to them. She kissed each on the cheek and Andrew found it very hard not to look down. The young woman wore a tight-fitting corset that pushed up her already ample chest, which evolved into a flowing feather gown which pooled around her feet. Her mask was so weighted with gold and gems that it was surprising that it was not weighted her down.

"Il a été trop longtemps! How have you been?" She exclaimed. Layla was happy to see her friend smile again, but Andrew was uneasy with how much she was hanging on his arm.

"Lovely shindig you have here. I have never seen your manor so decorated." Layla said.

"Not true. With all the preparations and security expenses, and with this whole mess with these Taken, there was only so much I could do with such little time."

Despite what people thought of her, Claudine wasn't stupid. She was nice, personal, welcoming and gracious, but every action she performed would bring a new ally into her fold. This party was just one tactic to bring in many at once.

The music began to change, making a beat where a person could dance to but only in the most formal of occasions. Claudine had a look of pure evil flash across her face.

"This song is one of my favorites," She said, pulling Andrew along. "Venez, young Warlock! Dance with me!"

Andrew was not one for dancing. Personally, he found the whole thing as silly and a waste of time, so being dragged out into a giant group of people with another woman was not his idea of fun. He looked back at his lover and mouthed the words 'HELP ME', but Layla found the whole thing rather comical.

Layla stood back and watched as the madness commenced. She wasn't surprised that Cornelia just appeared next to her, but it did explain why Claudine's suitors should little interest in her.

"If I were the jealous type, I would guarantee that your Warlock would never leave these grounds." The tone in Cornelia's voice told Layla that she was only half joking.

"Fortunately you are not if memory serves me correctly."

"I'm not entirely sure what you are suggesting."

"I'm entirely sure, you're entirely sure you know what I'm suggesting," Layla said coyly, making the Awoken blush. "Still, even with his two left feet, I do love my Warlock."

"And I love my princess, even if she is a floozy with her heart on her sleeve one second, and cut-throat business woman the next."

"Won't do either one of us any good if we just stick to the wall." Layla sighed.

"Nope." Cornelia turned and gave a gracious bow to the Titan. "May I have this dance young lady?"

Layla chuckled and said, "I would be delighted, sassy awoken."

The dance itself was not a particularly hard one to learn. There was a lot of locking arms and spinning required, but that was the easy part. When it came to the footwork and when to spin, Andrew found himself bumping into or stepping on other dancers. All by accident, of course, even if some fat merchants didn't want to hear it.

Thankfully the dancing stopped for a moment and Andrew thought it was over, but it was merely a chance for couples to change their partners. He had lost Claudine in the mayhem of dancers trading their current partners for new ones but soon found himself with Layla again.

Layla had a big, dumb smile on her face. "I can see that you have been practicing the dance moves I showed you."

"I had to delete a few things," Andrew said abashedly.

"Then just follow my lead." The music began to pick up again. This time it was softer with violins, violas, cellos and nearly every horn. "First, put your hand on my hip."

Layla took the lead, as usual, but Andrew did not care. He was lost in the melancholic, solemn and emotional music and Layla's lovely eyes. Just like the moment he first saw her this night, he was in a moment that seemed to defy all rules of time, space and reality, as he was merely floating state of happiness as he danced in nearly-perfect harmony with his radiant partner, unable to pry his eyes away. Before he knew what was happening, the music gently slowed and came to a moving crescendo. From a scholarly point of view, these songs gave him a glimpse of the rich culture that had been lost.

All dancers stopped in place and gave a bow to their respective partner. Andrew bowed, feeling his senses returning to this plane of existence as he gave out a genuine laugh savoring the moment where everything seemed so perfect.

"So you have been practicing," Layla said, out of breath. Apparently, they had danced through four ballets without either of them knowing it.

"What can I say? I have a good teacher."

Layla smiled warmly and nuzzled against his thin chest. Andrew looked around and noticed that they were some of the last dancers left. Everyone else had either left for other merriment or were gossiping among the gardens. Hopefully, Nel would not have to pull any drunkards out of the pitfalls come the morning. Neither one of them really wanted to leave either, because the City was probably still in full swing of celebrations, and they were just too tired for anything else. Andrew came up with a wonderful, all be it awful, idea.

"You know," Andrew said, slightly bashful as the request. "This manor does have a lot of rooms. Most of which are empty. Maybe we could find one and you could give me a few more pointers..." He had to block a flurry of playful punches, but it was not a full out no.

"Is that really all you think about?"

"As you said. The night is young, and so are we."

He hit Layla with a great hug, pressing up against her more, kissing her and crushing her, lifting her right from the ground. And he kept walking, carrying her along. Layla halfheartedly protesting all the way, if her smile did not give it away.

This is what the Festival of the Lost meant. To show the dead that the living were still alive, and still managed to find happiness in troubled times.


	5. Art of the Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a small date scene during a dry spell. 
> 
> A cookie to anyone who can get all the art easter eggs I put in this chapter.

Two embattled armies, their forces scattered, glared unblinking at one another a white and ebon field. The had begun arrayed in perfect formation, their ranks were orderly, their standings stiff among their ranks and their faces as hard as stone. Raised up on circular plinths, their lords and spiritual leaders had looked on imperiously - Emperor and Empress, along with all of their spiritual leaders with matching crafted regalia, stared down on forty-two soldiers in ruby-red while the opposing mirrored in sapphire-blue.

What had once been ordered soon turned to chaos, with no clear victor in sight.

"Your move," said Layla.

The Titan was leaning back and staring at Andrew across the finely craved game pieces. He narrowed his keen eyes, easing himself forward so that he was leveled with the pieces to contemplate his next move.

Unlike most of her order, Layla's loose fitting robes of pearlescent violet and her golden hair hung loosely about her neck. Her fear and anxiety of being out of her armor long since gone as she took a sip of wine from a golden-goblet that stayed near the game board.

Andrew toyed with the sapphire war elephant piece, a heavy infantry piece that could move five squares regardless of who was in the way. He would move it so that it could keep any of Layla's heavy horses from attacking.

"Are you trying to distract me, Layla? It's not going to work," he asked.

Andrew was clad in simple robes with the glowing green sash of a Warlock who had survived the battles of the Iron Banner. His private apartments adored everything that a Warlock would have on their quest for knowledge, though cleaner than before. Bookshelves filled with old scriptures of the old world had fine layers of dust on them while a machine with garish neon colors played large music held on black disks and ancient images hung on the wall. Flaking, fragile things of wood, canvas, animal hides and decomposing pigments, preserved eternally in thin blue fields of stasis; the smoke-pale portrait of a woman with the most alluring smile; blinding yellow flowers rendered in thick paints; torn pieces parchment of that listed among other things the rights to life, liberty and pursuit of some unknown entity; an old man strumming a guitar all in blue.

"Not at all, I just know how long you can be at times," Layla smirked slightly and allowed the shoulder of her robe to slip ever so slightly. Andrew's eyes lit up ever so slightly, but then returned to their focused nature. Not even her obscene gesture could distract him from inning their bet.

Andrew made his move, a cunning outflank with his last war elephant. He sat back, arms folded, looking quite pleased with himself.

Layla laughed, a genuine expression of warm ease that she seldom felt except for when she was around the Warlock.

"You should really mask your intentions better, Andrew."

"Should I?" His face went from angelic innocence to impish delight. "You might be able to read my intentions, but my mind is my own," he said. "Death in three."

"Now who is using distraction?"

"All is fair in love an war," Andrew merely gestured to the board with his hand.

Layla's moves were faster than Andrews, moving her cannonade piece so that it would deal with Andrew's remaining war elephant. She knew that Andrew would take his time once again, so Layla stood from her seat to stretch her stiff limbs. One of the many art pieces had caught her eyes; a night sky of heavy blue paint brimming with whirling clouds, shining stars, and a bright crescent moon. The swirling sky directed her eyes around the painting, with spacing between the stars and the curving contours creating a dot-to-dot effect.

"Sometimes, Andrew, I swear this isn't a private residence anymore, rather a museum." She moved onto a different piece, painting of a dinner at night. "Not that I am complaining."

"You will be amazed at what Fallen pirates decide what is worthy of taking," said Andrew. "Found most of these in a vault in the North American Empire, others in the European Dead Zone."

"You do have a fine eye, although I am not so sure about some of these paintings," she pointed to a piece that had looked as if the art had given up and just through paint and other materials onto the fibreboard.

"It is meant to represent motion and thought while creating the piece."

"Really?" said Layla, tilting her head to one side, "What is it supposed to be."

"I don't believe it is supposed to be anything. Rather it is supposed to show raw abstract emotion."

"And this one?" Another painting over a chaise lounge sofa, depicting a nude young woman, reclining on a couch or bed in the sumptuous surroundings of an ancient palace. She seemed completely unconcerned in her nudity.

"Yes..." began Andrew, struggling to put into words the rights emotions so he could explain it without getting slapped. "Despite its obvious erotic nature, celebrating marital love and the physical intimacy between man and wife, a supposition supported by a number of details. Notice how in her right hand, for instance, the girl holds a posy of roses, which symbolized love; also, the sleeping dog was a common symbol of fidelity; lastly, the maids in the background are depicted rummaging in a traditional cassone, where wives commonly stored their trousseaux."

Layla shrugged and asked, "Why do you insist on collecting such objects? They are a bit of a distraction from your duty for the City."

"You've been talking to Ana again, haven't you?" Andrew regretted the words the moment they spilled out of his mouth.

"I'm free to speak to whomever I wish," Layla said in mock indignation. She knew that some of her fellow Titans could be a bit determined in their duty, but Ana Kynsaka was a borderline zealot. Besides her usual gung-ho personality, she frequently showed rather low expectations of other Guardians -, particularly Warlocks.

Andrew shook his head. "These works will be my lasting contribution for the centuries to come. Yes, there are planets to explore and enemies yet to defeat, but what manner of a galaxy will it be if there are none to appreciate what we had created before? This world is empty enough without if it will deny art, music, and poetry, and those to appreciate them. Art and beauty are as close to the divine as we find in this godless age. These pieces will do better in a place where people can appreciate them, then locked in an ancient vault. Through that their creators are immortal."

"I still think they are a distraction," said Layla, continuing to examine the female in the painting.

"Not at all, babe, on the contrary. We are meant to go out and retake our lost world, collecting ancient science and art, but certain items do not come in engram format. It is said that empire follows art and vice verse as those of a more prosaic nature might theorize, and I would rather go without food or water for weeks than go without art and science."

"I've seen you hungry. I'd rather go up against Oryx again then deal with you when hungry," said Layla.

Andrew felt a flush of embarrassment but suppressed it before it could show.

Layla looked unconvinced and pointed to the unfinished works that lay at the far end of the parlor. "So what are these ones then? They're pretty good - in a scribbled kind of way. What are they supposed to recreate?"

The embarrassment was back and Andrew was grateful that he kept his back from her.

"I was indulging my creative side, but nothing serious," said Andrew. His pen and ink drawings were a collection of different areas of while on his many adventures. The Dreadnought was his latest subject of interest, since it portrayed the artistic and religious side of the Hive, as well as giving him the mechanical ingenuity of the Cabal.

"Some of them are really good," She flipped through a few more, noticing how they changed from exotic worlds and fantastical locations to completely mundane scenes from City. 

"Maybe you could draw me like that woman on your wall." She called back and enjoyed the sound of game pieces clattering around.

Layla shrugged once more and placed the drawing back on the table, just as a piece clanked down and Andrew declared, "I won."

"What?" Layla rushed back to the table where her Emperor piece had been knocked off his raised plinth. In its stead was the odd-looking Praxic - a precursor to modern Warlocks.  _Appropriate_. The piece was of a woman that was in a long robe and blind seer clutching her staff of office, an iconic depiction of an eye with the letter 'I' serving as the iris.

Layla had to do a mental play-by-play in order to remember where the piece was earlier. The Praxic was the only piece that could move indefinitely along a diagonal path, as long as there was space available or until it took out an enemy piece. Could she have been so preoccupied that she allowed that one small piece to slip under her notice?

"You cheated, cheater!" Exclaimed Layla, though it lacked any real commitment as the plays started to make more sense.

"A false accusation from a sore loser," Andrew said with a big dumb grin on his face, making Layla choose whether or not to hit or tackle him. "I never figured Layla Robinson of the Azure Nexus Robinsons' was a sore loser. That's disheartening, to say the least."

"Warlocks," Layla said under her breath. She knew what was coming next since she was the one who came up with the bet. The loser of two of the three games had to do whatever the winner commanded. "So what do you want for your prize?"

Andrew leaned back in his chair, swirling the clear contents in his silver chalice. A dark look crossed over his smug expression, making his normally pale-blue eyes seem like two dark pits. Something primal stirred with Layla.

"What any man wants from a gorgeous woman at this hour. Dinner!"

Hit him. Definitely hit him.

* * *

 

"Well, I have to admit that was the more -  _interesting_  meals I have ever eaten. Whatever you were in your past life, a cook wasn't one of them."

"You can be such a critic," she said, leering at him as she took the dishes. "You said you wanted dinner, you never implied it had to be good." She looked at the remains of the brisket on the platter. "Bison briskets aren't supposed to be this tough though."

Andrew laughed. "It wasn't that bad."

That was an understatement. The meal was not horrible, but Andrew could tell that all of Layla's cooking mistakes were done intentionally. He knew she could cook, he had experienced it before. Layla could manage to take even the normally tasteless standard-issued rations into culinary masterpieces using nothing but a small fire and her helmet. This, however, definitely one her more interesting creations, so interesting that it made Andrew wish he was eating those tasteless rations.

The brisket was on par with a leather belt and burnt to the point that he could have used it for one of his charcoal drawings. The salad looked all right in the bowl, but it was swimming in bitter white vinegar. The watery coleslaw should have been eaten with a spoon like soup or slurped-up with a straw. Finally, the dessert, a bread cake, was so hard that the Stoneborn Order could have used it to repair any damage to their impenetrable wall.

"If my chefs heard about what I created, they would have burned me on the spot," Layla said, disappearing into the kitchen. "Promise you won't tell anyone!" Dishes clattered in the sink.

"For you, my darling, my lips will remain sealed."  _Unless Nel starts to interrogate me._

Spite was the best motivator, but usually, that ended in greater results than the one that was given.

Andrew rocked in his chair and got up to join her in the kitchen. Layla was over the sink, scrubbing the platter with impunity. Meaning any aggression she still held towards him, she was taking it out on his place wear. Hopefully, this wouldn't mean he would have to scour the European Dead Zone for replacements.

"Mon amour." He said as he snuck up behind her while she was scrubbing out the salad bowl, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Are you alright?"

"I don't think you should be asking that right now," Layla moved out of Andrew's grasp.

"Well, I don't think you should take it out on my dishes."

"They had it coming."

Andrew continued to hold her in his arms, and eventually, Layla ended her resistance and settled, but refused to lower her attitude.

"What can I do to make it up to you?"

"Simple," Layla squirmed out of his grasp and went back into the parlor. Andrew could hear the clattering of pieces and soon followed suit. He found that Layla had reset the board, this time setting the pieces and terrain in a new order than the last game. "I want a rematch. Double or nothing!"

"And what exactly are we playing for?"

"Pride. Payback. Whatever you want. If I win though, we never play this game again!" She had an evil smile and even worse look in her eyes. "But if you win, you can draw me however you want."

Andrew could not hide the blood rushing to his cheeks, nor the choked croak of his voice, "You're on, mon amour."


	6. Battle in the Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wilds of Old Earth are home to more than just Fallen Pirates and scattered, isolated pockets of humans. It hides away the power of ancient technology and the might of ferocious, fearsome and terrible creatures. Natural or otherwise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set during the Rise of Iron dlc, where the main characters are helping Pilgrims make their way to the City.

_**Somewhere in the Siberia Wasteland.** _

It was snowing out tonight, as it did every night.

Out within the steel-cold darkness, a blizzard raged on. Frozen, dark, unforgiving. The snow bit like the remaining remnants of wolves that still roamed the tundras, removing all feeling from the Guardians. The Light always burned with a passion that strengthened within them, and it would warm them even in the darkest of matters. Not on this night. The smothering darkness had snuffed it out almost fully; a primordial frozen landscape that could snuff out their passion like a candle. Cold winds had blown has ravaged their buffed and harassed their camp multiple of times, but they stayed resolute.

The camp was lit by primitive lanterns and small fires spread throughout twinkling like distant dying stars. Their expert Hunter, Nel, had told them that even with the storm a large fire could bring unwanted attention, while smaller ones would keep the Pilgrims safe and be harder to see. Andrew, and a few of the Pilgrims, just wish they gave off more heat. The Warlock was no stranger to the cold or roughing in the wild, a career in the Vanguard would do that, he just wished the damn storm would let up for a second so his food would cook. He was stirring his supper in a small kettle over an even smaller fire. He was their best cook, but that really wasn't saying much—there were only so many ways to make trail rations interesting.

Most of their Fireteam were in their nice warm tents, enjoying an actual hot meal, cleaning their gear, or getting some much-needed sleep. Up here, night dragged on much longer than any place else on Old Earth, and Andrew was lucky enough to draw Wolf's Share when it came to the watch. It was the middle watch however, it was also the coldest and longest and Andrew was kicking himself for not manipulating the odds.

Another howl made Andrew's blood run cold for a moment. He remembered reading a study of the remaining wolves in this area, that they were more vicious and aggressive than even Cerebri hounds. Andrew really hoped that they were Lord Saladin's wolves, and not a full pack looking for an easy meal.

Andrew looked up, his cold, blue eyes traced one of the many walls built by the Russians of old.

 _What were they made for,_  he wondered.  _Defense? Containment? Segregation?_

No one ever really understood why these walls were built here. They predate the Walls of the City by centuries, back to the mid-Golden Age by their designs. The technology was made for both reliability and greatest skill showing both its tenacity and exquisite splendor becoming an inspiration of humanity's accomplishments. Something was not right, though. Chunks larger than a Fallen Walker had been torn out of the walls, scattered across the length of the barrier. He had heard many of rumors what could've caused it, mainly from starved and frightened pilgrims or Guardians who had lost themselves to the Wilds.

These rumors spread through the Pilgrims they guarded even now, and they had no shortage of theories about what was out there, ranging from the nearly plausible to the absurd. His Ghost was enjoying telling him how the pragmatic ones thought may have been due to age and weather, and much larger portions might have been caused by skirmishes with the Fallen. Others, having grown up on country legends about the dark things that lurked in the forgotten corners of the wilderness, was quick to suggest unknown beasts, which included Trolls, Golems and some kind of creature known as a Terrormirage. Then there were the ones who had the most lurid imagination and suspected that the damage was caused by angry spirits, mischievous demon, and even benevolent Gods.

Sometimes it was hard to be the logical one. Andrew waited until his Ghost finished reiterating before ruining all the theories.

"Mid-Golden Age technology was built to last both time and elements. If these were damaged by Fallen, then it would have taken a Ketch to cause this kind of damage."

"So can we rule out Trolls, Golems and Terrormirage?" His Ghost asked.

Andrew stirred the stew his stew and gave it a taste test. He found it eatable and warm enough to keep him comfortable. "I have no idea what a Terrormirage is, and neither does Atlas. Excuse me if I happen to believe a Hunter who spent most of his life in the Wilds then a group of half-frozen pilgrims."

"Well let's table that idea for now, which leaves—"

"Then demon, spirits, and angry Gods," A woman's voice came from behind him. It always surprised Andrew how Layla managed to move so carefully in all that armor. "They destroyed the structures out some forgotten heresy and carried off everyone for trespassing in these lands. Things that hunger for blood and souls."

Andrew's super-computer mind went through every holy scripture from Old Earth, and plenty fitted that reasoning, but they had not passed any evidence of human sacrifices or iconology. Plus her attitude had far too much enthusiasm. The Titan's armor was covered in snow and ice. She had a bowl that had a spoon stuck out of it. Andrew could read that sign easily and filled her bowl. "Anything new to report? How are you?"

"Cold, shivering and aching. Nothing is coming to massacre us, yet." He took his own bowl and shoveled some of the stew in his mouth. It was edible but lacked flavor. When it came to field rations, Nel always made sure to come through for them when out on patrol. She would hunt the local wildlife to give extra bulk to their meals, but the nutrition bars were made this decade. "So I'll take it you've been mingling with the Pilgrims? Thought you said we weren't supposed to get involved."

"Food riots and simple squabbles, yes, but a few like to play dice and talk."

"About?"

"How we are leading them to the slaughter. There was some grousing during the night about there never being any real threat at all, that we slept in this ditch for no reason, and if we'd pushed on as planned, we could've made it to the City and slept in comfort." Layla finished her first serving and helped herself to another bowl. "Also how a certain a certain Exo is seducing some of the younger, prettier Pilgrims."

Andrew wouldn't have minded sleeping in his warm tent, out of this storm, and with proper food. The fact that Atlas was at his normal activities was to be expected, though he was happy he was not hitting on Gemini or Layla. He spoke with his mouth full of food. "Who's complaining?"

"Sadly, fathers, brothers, and lovers who I have to dissuade from any honor duels. But their elder is a no-nonsense type, and she won't risk her people without reason. When that she told them to quit their crying, they did."

"That's a relief."

"Oh, and he cheats at cards, too, so as a show of good faith, it would be really nice if he'd give my student his pocket watch back. Caulder's grandfather gave that to him."

"I'll take care of it," Andrew assured the Titan, though the petty part of him was secretly glad to see Caulder receive a well-deserved reality check. "Anything else you want to warn me about?"

"Aside from freezing cold and irrational pilgrims? No. Everything is coming up roses."

Andrew snorted. "And here to think that  _I_  was the snarky one."

"What can I say? Your influence has rubbed off on me," she said as she shovels the last bit of the stew in her mouth. "Food isn't half bad, though."

Andrew smiled slightly at her enthusiasm, but he felt a mixture of other emotions at the thought of him possibly fighting for another century without his team... without Layla. There was fear at the idea of never seeing his Titan again, and unease about what would have become of them if they fell in the field and their Ghost never reached the City. He unconsciously clenched his fists but was surprised to find there was something already in his right hand which squeezed back. Andrew looked down and saw that Layla's hand was gripped in his and that their fingers were intertwined. He wasn't sure which of them had done it, but either way, he felt a sense of comfort from the contact. It gave him warmth to have her so close, even if they were clad in armor.

"Stay close to me," Andrew said.

"Always," Layla said.

 _Clink_...  _Clink_...  _Clink_...  _Clink_...

A sound came from the storm.

 _Clink_..  _Clink_..  _Clink_..  _Clink_..

Red lights on their Head's Up Displays' flashed to life. Something was coming, and there were a lot of things. Red stars illuminated the wall. First one, then ten, then hundreds.

 _Clink_.  _Clink_.  _Clink_.  _Clink_.

They were getting brighter. No, not brighter, closer. All of the Guardians had come here expecting the worst. Yet somehow, he knew this was worse than he could imagine. Andrew took another look around at his companions, who were ready to spring into action. He was not surprised to see that Nel had just appeared next to them and seemed deathly calm. Layla seemed lackadaisical as she got off the ground, wiping snow off Her Memory before putting in a fresh magazine. He was less impressed with their students, who came out of one tent in various states of undress. Caulder had his helmet off and was quickly put a gauntlet back on his arm. Atlas-13 was missing the majority of his upper armor, leaving just his boots and dignity to cold winds. His own student, Gemini, was the most exposed. The young Awoken had decided to come out of her tent in her boots, coat that was torn open by the harsh wind, and any shreds of dignity she could muster.

Nel had ordered all three to finish gearing up and then see to the passenger.

He knew what was going to happen and instinctively placed his ornate helmet on his head. The lights began to move into the light of the fire. Fallen. They had fallen even further than pirates, or guerrillas, or terrorists. Amalgams of dregs came out of the wall, void of color or humanity, wielding weapons with intent to destroy. Andrew reached for the blade on his back pulling Bolt-Caster free from its scabbard. Raw Arc energy danced and crackled along the blade while small blue discharges gave the Guardian better illumination. He grasped it in both his hands, preparing himself for battle as his allies did the same.

"Stay close to me," Layla said, serving as an order but also showing her concern. The mutated Fallen began to change their position, Her Memory barked to life and proceeded to cut down any of the malicious creatures who thought of getting too close.

"Always," Andrew replied. He unleashed a been of Arc Light from the blade which manifested into a lingering electrical storm that devoured any of the Fallen in its path.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As for the new characters - Caulder, Gemini "Gemi" Pollux, and Atlas-13 - are characters

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this had to be one of the hardest stories I ever partly wrote.
> 
> I give thanks again to Fuuko no Miko for writing the majority of this chapter, and most all of the romantic insanity that followed.
> 
> As for the characters, I always loved the warlock character because you are either mobile artillery that can create black holes, or come back from the dead and troll other players with the firebombs. As for Ms. Layla, she is a crazy, hypnotic, love child of my incorruptible fantasies and Fuuko no Miko's fertile, perverse creativity. We have way too much fun with her, which also includes her, Claudine, and Nel. Have fun with that.
> 
> Nel: Oh I will.
> 
> Claudine: Me too!
> 
> Layla: Get a room you two!


End file.
